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PORTUGUESE OF LUIS DE CAMOENS. 



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J'lobUsTted' iry ya^tTies Carpenter &■ Son 3:f ay J.d24.. 



POEMS, 



FROM THE PORTUGUESE 

OF 

LUIS DE CAMOENS. 

WITH REMARKS ON 

HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

NOTES, ETC. ETC. 



BY 

LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD, 



-Accipies meros amore?. 

Catull. 



^ ;^zm tuition. 



LONDON ; 

PRINTED FOR JAMES CARPENTER AND SON, 
OLD BOND STREET. 

1824. 



VQT'^^ 



^^-l^ 



\^' 



387270 



C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. 



REMARKS 

ON 

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 

OF 

CAMOENS. 



It has been frequently observed, that the 
memoirs of literary men are, in general, so 
devoid of extraordinary incident, that the re- 
lation of them is calculated more to instruct 
than to amuse. The Life of Camoens forms 
an exception to this remark. Its vicissitudes 
were so many and so various, as almost to en- 
courage a belief, that in describing them, the 
deficiencies of fact were sometimes supplied 
by the pencil of romance. 

B 



The late ingenious Translator of the Lusiad 
has portrayed the character, and narrated the 
misfortunes of our poet, in a manner more 
honourable to his feelings as a man, than to 
his accuracy in point of biographical detail. 
It is with diflfidence that the present writer 
essays to correct his errors; but as the real 
circumstances of the life of Camoens are 
mostly to be found in his own minor com- 
positions, with which Mr. Mickle was unac- 
quainted, he trusts that certain information 
will atone for his presumption. 

The family of Camoens w^as illustrious, 
and originally Spanish. They were long set- 
tled at Cadmon\ a castle in Galicia, from 
which they probably derived their patronymic 
appellation. However, there are some who 
maintain that their name alluded to a certain 
wonderful bird% whose mischievous sagacity 

^ Faria y Sousa, V. del. P. § iii. 

^ The Camao. Our poet himself gives a somewhat dif- 
ferent account of the matter. (Quintll. a Jiuma dama, 
V. 190.) Formerly, every well regulated family in Spain 



discovered and punished the smallest devia- 
tion from conjugal fidelity. A lady of the 
house of Cadmon, vi'hose conduct had been 
rather indiscreet, demanded to be tried by 
this extraordinary judge. Her innocence was 
proved, and in gratitude to the being who had 
restored him to matrimonial felicity, the con- 
tented husband adopted his name. 

In the fourteenth century, a dispute having 
arisen between the families of Cadmon and 
De Castera^ a knight of the former had the 
misfortune to kill a cavalier belonging to the 

retained one of these terrible attendants. The infidelity 
of its mistress was the only circumstance which could 
deprive it of life. Should her guilt have been extended 
to any degree beyond a wish, the faithful bird immediately 
betrayed it, by expiring at the feet of its injured lord. It 
soon was difficult to find a Camao that had lived in the 
same family during three generations j and at length the 
species became entirely extinct ! 

This odious distrust of female honour is ever character- 
istic of a barbarous age. The Camao of Spain, and the 
Miimbo of Africa, are expedients indicative of equal re- 
finement. 

3 Sialgado de Araujo, — Casas de Galicia, p. 304, 



8 

Jatter. A long train of persecution ensued, 
to escape from which, Ruy de Camoens em- 
braced the cause of King Ferdinand 4, and re- 
moved with his family into Portugal, under 
the protection of that monarch, about the year 
1370. His son, Vasco de Camoens, was 
highly distinguished by royal favour ^ but had 
the superior honour of being the ancestor of 
our immortal poet, who descended from him 
in the fourth generation. 

Luis de Camoens was born at Lisbon, 
about the year 1524^. His misfortunes began 
with his birth, for he never saw the smile of 
a father; Simon Vaz de Camoens having pe- 
rished by shipwreck in the very year which 
gave being to his son. Such, at least, is the 
received opinion, although there be many rea- 

* Garcez Ferreyra. — Vid. do Poet. Edit. Gendron. § iii. 
^ King Ferdinand invested him with the lordships of 
Portalegre, Alam-quer, &c. Faria, 

^ The place of his nativity is ascertained, hy his frequent 
application of the epithet "paternaV to the Tagusj the 
time of it is involved in some obscurity, hut an entry in the 



sons for calling it into question 7. Notwith- 
standing the diminution of wealth, which the 
family sustained in consequence of this event, 
the youthful Camoens w^as sent to the uni- 
versity of Coimbra^, and maintained there by 
the provident care of his surviving parent. 

The ideas associated with the place of our 
education are generally lasting. It is the pe- 
culiarity of poetical minds to recall them with 
delight, and Camoens frequently mention* 
Coimbra, where he was fostered on the ^* lap 
of science,^' with all the tender gratitude of an 
affectionate son. During the period which 
lie passed at the university, he was an utter 
stranger to that passion, wdth which he after- 
wards became so intimately acquainted. It 
is even recorded, that while the manly graces 

register of the Portuguese ludia House appears to deter- 
mine it. He is there stated to have been twenty-five years 
old in 1550. Faria. Vid. do Poet. 

' The same register mentions him as one of his son's 
sureties, and, consequently, living in 1550. 

^ Faria y Sousa — Severim — Ferreyra. 



10 

of his person inspired many of the better sex 
with admiration, he treated his fair captives 
with disdain, or, at most, as the mere objects 
of temporary transport 9. 

But the scene was soon to be changed, and 
on his arrival at Lisbon, he was destined to 
feel the full vengeance of that god whose 
power he had contemned. L-ove is very nearly 
allied to devotion, and it was in the exercise 
of the latter that C a mo ens was introduced 
to the knowledge of the former. In the Church 
of *' Christ's Wounds," at Lisbon, on the 11th 
of April, 1542^°, he first beheld Dona Cate- 
rina de Ataide, the object of his purest and 
earliest attachment. The churches of Spain 
and Portugal, says Scarron, are the very cra- 
dles of intrigue's and it was not long before 
Camoens enjoyed an opportunity of declar- 

9 Camoens, Cau9. II. stanz. vi. Cane. VII. stanz. ii. 
Son. VII. Sousa in loc. 

'^^ For the reasons which have induced the translator to 
assign this date, see the note on Sonnet I. 

" Roman Comique; P. I. eh, ix» 



11 

ing his affection, with all the romantic ardour 
of eighteen, and of a poet. 

But, in those days, love was a state of no 
trifling probation, and ladies then unconscion- 
ably expected a period of almost chivalrous 
servitude, which, happily for gentlemen, is no 
longer required. The punctilious severity of 
his mistress formed the subject of our poet's 
most tender complaints ; for; though her heart 
had secretly decided in his favour, still Portu- 
guese deliciacy suppressed all avowal of her 
passion. After many months of adoration, 
when he humbly besought a ringlet of her 
hair, she was so far softened by his entreaties, 
as to make a compromise with prudery, and 
bestow one of the silken fillets which encircled 
her head ". These anecdotes must not be de- 
spised, for they mark the temper of the times. 

The peculiar situation of Dona Caterina 
(that of one of the queen's ladies) imposed a 

^2 Camoens, Sou, XLII, and Sousa in Ice. 



12 

uniform restraint on her lover, which soon be- 
came intolerable. Like another Ovid, he 
violated the sanctity of the royal precincts, 
and was in consequence banished from the 
court ^^. With the precise nature of his offence 
we are unacquainted, but it too probably arose 
from a breach of discretion, the first and noblest 
amongst the laws of gallantry '^. Whatsoever 
it might have been, it furnished a happy pretext 
to the lady's relations for terminating an in- 
tercourse which worldly considerations ren- 
dered, on her part, of the highest imprudence. 
But Love prepared consolation for his votary, 
where least he expected it. On the morning 
of his departure, his mistress relented from 
her wonted severity, and confessed the secret 
of her long concealed affection '^ The sighs 
of grief were soon lost in those of mutual de- 
light, and the hour of parting was, perhaps, 
the sweetest of our poet's existence. Thus 

^'^ Camoens, Eleg. 111. and Sousa in Joc. 

^^ Faria y Sousa, Comment, in Eclog. pag, 240. 

^^ Sonnet X^SIV* and Comment^ in loc. 



13 

comforted, he removed to Santarem (the scene 
of his banishment), but speedily returned to 
Lisbon, again tasted of transport, was a second 
time detected, and a second time driven into 
exile '^. To such a spirit as Camoens, the 
inactivity of this situation must have proved 
insupportable; the voice of Love whispered 
a secret reproach, and inspired him with the 
glorious resolution of conquering the obstacles 
which fortune had placed between him and 
felicity. He accordingly sought and obtained 
permission to accompany King John III'^ in 
an expedition then concerted against the Moors 
in Africa. Here, whilst bravely fighting under 
the commands of a near relation '*, he was de- 
prived of his right eye, by some splinters from 
the deck of the vessel in which he was stationed. 

^^ Faria y Sousa, V. del, P. § xiv. 

^'7 Of this monarch Camoens gives a fine character in one 
comprehensive line : 

" Foy rey,fez tudo quanto a rey se deve." 

Son. LIX. 

" He was a king — in every act a king." 
^® Sousa sajs> under those of his father. Vida, § xiv. 



14 



Many of his most pathetic compositions were 
written during this campaign, and the toils of 
a martial life were sweetened by the recollection 
of her for whom they w^ere endured. 

His heroic conduct in many engagements 
at length purchased his recall to court. He 
hastened home, fraught with the most tender 
anticipations, and found — what must have been 
his feelings ? that his mistress was no more '^ | 

There can scarcely be conceived a more in- 
teresting theme for the visions of romance, 
than the death oT this young and amiable 
being. The circumstances of her fate are pe- 
culiarly favourable to the exercise of conjecture. 
She loved, she was beloved, yet unfortunate 
in her attachment, she was torn from the world 
at the early age of twenty '°; and we cannot 
but adorn her grave with some of the wildest 
flowers which fancy produces. But her lot 
was enviable, compared to that of her lover. 

»9 Comment, in Soun. XIX. et alibi. 20 jbid. 



15 

The measure of his sorrows was yet iuiperfect 
He had still to encounter the cruel neglect of 
that nation whose glory his valour had con- 
tributed to maintain. The claims of mere 
merit are too often disregarded, but those 
which are founded on the gratitude of courts 
are hopeless indeed ! Long years were passed 
by Camoens in unsuccessful application for 
the reward which his services demanded \ and 
in suing for his rights at the feet of men whom 
he could not but despise. This was a degrada- 
tion which his high spirit knew not how to 
endure, and he accordingly bade adieu to Por- 
tugal, to seek, under the burning suns of India, 
that independence which his own country de- 
nied '^ 

21 Joseph de Aquino, Vid. do Poet, p. 132. edit. 1782. 

22 " As derradeiras palavras que na nao disse forao as de 
Scipiao Africano, Ingrata patria, non possidebts ossa 
MEa!"— " The last words which I uttered on board of the 
vessel were those of Scipio — * Ungrateful country ! thou 
shalt not even possess my bones,* " Such are the expressions 
of Camoens, in a letter written from India, to a friend at 
Lisbon. The whole of this composition is interesting and 
pathetic in the extreme. 



16 

There are some who attribute this event to 
a very different cause, and assert that Camoens 
quitted Lisbon in consequence of a discovered 
intrigue with the beautiful wife of a Portuguese 
gentleman ^^ Perhaps this story may not be 
wholly unfounded. It is improbable that he 
remained long constant to the memory of a 
departed mistress, when living beauty was 
ready to supply her place. His was not a 
heart that could safely defy temptation, al- 
though the barbarous ingenuity of some com- 
mentators '^ would make us believe, that all 
his amours were purely platonic, and that he 
was ignorant of the passion in every other 
respect. Happily for himself the case was 
different, and his works record that he more 
than once indulged in the little wanderings of 
amatory frolic '^ 

23 Mickle. — Life of Camoens. Unfortunately, Mr. M. 
does not cite any authority for this supposition. 

'^* Faria, in Son. X. et al. 

-^ Those who are desirous of further information on this 
subject may obtain a very curious anecdote by consulting 
Sousa, Vid. del. P. § xxxii. 



17 

On his arrival in India, we find that Ca- 
MOENS contributed, in no small measure, to 
the success of an expedition against the Pi- 
menta Isles, carried on by the King of Cochin 
and his allies the Portuguese. His own recital 
of this affair exhibits all the charming modesty 
of merit '^. In the following year (1555) Manuel 
de Vasconcelos conducted an armament to the 
Red Sea^^. Our poet accompanied him, and 
M'ith the intrepid curiosity of genius, explored 
the wild regions of Africa by which Mount 
Felix is surrounded. Here his mind was 
stored with sketches of scenery, which after- 
wards formed some of the most finished pictures 
in his Lusiad, and in other compositions '^, to 
the former of which, on returning to Go a, he 
devoted his whole attention. 

India, at that time, presented a scene of 
political depravity, which no subsequent pe- 
riod has exceeded. Practices were tolerated, 

26 Eleg. I. 27 Life, by Ferrer/ ra, § xiv. 

-^ In particular, the IX. Cangam, 



18 

which eventually wrought the downfall of the 
government hy whom they were authorized; 
hordes of hungry adventurers rioted on the 
spoils of the friendless natives, and the demons 
of rapacity and avarice were every where ex- 
alted into gods. The spirit of Camoens rose 
in revolt against the enormities by which he 
was surrounded. An opportunity of declaring 
his disgust at length occurred. The arrival 
of a new governor at Goa was celebrated by 
the exhibition of a kind of tournament, in 
which reeds were employed in place of lances, 
thence called '* The Sport of the Canes." Ca- 
moens published a satirical account of this 
affair, in which he described the chief men of 
Goa, as adorned with allegorical devices, <!l:c. 
allusive to the character and conduct of each ^^ 
In consequence of this, he was bauLshed to 
China by order of Barreto, the governor, 
against whom the bard s attack had been prin- 
cipally directed, 

29 He likewise wrote some verses entitled " Disparates 
na India,^' which severely animadverted on the malad- 
ministration of the new governor. 



19 

This proceeding of Camoens has not es- 
caped reprehension. He has been accused of 
ingratitude; but how could he be ungrateful 
who never had a friend ? His rashness in pro- 
vokhig the anger of the great has likewise 
been censured by the cold blooded moderation 
of worldly men ; men to whom truth itself seems 
a libel, if it offend the dignity of a grandee^". 
Yet, though it be a mournful fact that prudence 
and genius but rarely accord, is the sacrifice of 
the former to be regretted, when it makes way 
for the punishment of vice, by the bold ut- 
terance of honest indignation? On this prin- 
ciple, the conduct of our author appears almost 
free from blame, and, perhaps, he was only 
culpable in suffering resentment to give too 
high a colouring to the sketches of truth. 

The adventures of Camoens in China, the 
temporary prosperity which he there expe- 
rienced, and the numerous sorrows and per- 
secutions which he afterwards encountered, 
have been fully and elegaatly detailed by the 

^^ Amongst others, Mons. Dii Perron de Castera, the 
French translator of the Lusiad. 



20 

late ingenious translator of the Lusiad. To 
his narration the present writer begs to refer, 
lest he should extend these remarks beyond 
their proper bounds. 

After an absence of sixteen years Camoens 
was compelled to return to Portugal, poor and 
friendless as when he departed. His immortal 
Lusiad was now ready for publication, which, 
however, was delayed, in consequence of the 
violence with which the plague then raged 
throughout Lisbon. At length, in the summer 
of 1572, it was printed^', and received with 
all the honour due to such a glorious achieve- 
ment of genius. It is even asserted that King 
Sebastian, to whom it was inscribed, rewarded 
the author with a pension of 375 reis^\ But, 

3^ Faria y Sousa, Vid. § xxvii. 

^2 When Sebastian undertook the Moorish expedition, 
assured of victory, he brought a poet with him to Africa, 
to witness his exploits, and to celebrate them in song. The 
person selected for this office was Diego Bernardes, a man 
of poor and despicable abilities. Had Camoens been really 
a protege of the monarch, it is much more probable that he 
would have attended him, whose 

" Svrord and pen were rivals in renown," 



21 

admitting the truth of this very doubtful story, 
our poet could not have remained long in pos- 
session of the royal bounty. Sebastian was 
speedily hurled from a tottering throne ^^, and 
liberality was a stranger to the soul of his 
successor. To his eyes the cowl of monkhood 
seemed a more graceful ornament than the 
noblest laurels of the muse^^. Such was the 
spirit which patronized de Sa^^ and suffered 
the author of the Lusiad to starve ! 

The latter years of Camoens present a 
mournful picture not merely of individual ca- 
lamity, but of national ingratitude. He whose 
best years had been devoted to the service of 

^ Faria, ut supra. 

^^ In the preface to the edition of Camoens, printed in 
1782, vol. i. p. 59, there is an attempt to vindicate the cha- 
racter of Cardinal Henry from the strictures of Mr. Mickle. 
But the voice of history cannot be silenced, and history is 
loud in bis condemnation. 

^^ Sousa. Vid. § xxvii. Francisco de Sa was an author 
much in favour witb cardinal Henry. His Muse was of a 
theological turn. He wrote orthodox sonnets to St. John, 
and pious little epigrams on Adam and Eve, &c. 

C 



22 

his country, he who had taught her literary 
fame to rival the proudest efforts of Italy itself, 
and who seemed born to revive the remem- 
brance of ancient gentility and Lusian heroism, 
was compelled in age to wander through the 
streets, a wretched dependant on casual con- 
tribution. One friend alone remained to smooth 
his downward path, and guide his steps to the 
grave, with gentleness and consolation. It 
was Antonio, his slave, a native of Java, who 
had accompanied Camoens to Europe, after 
having rescued him from the waves, when 
shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This 
faithful attendant was wont to seek alms through- 
out Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of 
the day with his poor and broken hearted 
master ^^ Blessed, for ever blessed, be the 
memory of this amiable Indian! But his 
friendship was employed in vain : Camoens 
sank beneath the pressure of penury and dis- 
ease, and died in an almshouse ^^ early in the 

36 Faria y Sousa, § xxix. ^ 

^'^ The place of his death is differently mentioned by Ma- 
noel de Faria, According to that commentator, he died in 



23 

year 1579. He was buried in the church of 
Saint Anne of the Franciscans. Over his 
grave, Gon^alo Coutinho placed the following 
inscription ^^ which, for comprehensive simpli- 
city^ the translator ventures to prefer to almost 
every production of a similar kind : 

HERE LIES LUIS DE CAMOENS : 

HE EXCELLED ALL THE POETS OF HIS TIME. 

HE LIVED POOR AND MISERABLE; 

AND HE DIED SO. 

MDLXXIX. 

It has been justly observed ^^, that the fate 
of Camoens, considered in a political view, 
bears an intimate connexion with that of his 
country. The same degradation of national 

Lis own miserable hovel, close to the church in which he was 
interred* 

^^ Sousa^ Vid, §» Some years afterwards, Don Gon- 
9alves Camera caused a long and pompous epitaph to be 
engraved on the same tomb. But this posthumous pane- 
gyric only added deeper disgrace to the facts recorded in 
the former description, 

^^ Mickle, Life of Camoens, 



24 

sentiment, which suffered such a man to be- 
come a beggar and an outcast, not long after- 
wards plunged Portugal into the lowest dis- 
grace, and reduced her to the abject state of 
a conquered province. So true it is, that the 
decline of public spirit in matters of taste is a 
certain indication of political decay 4°. 

The character of Camoens may be inferred 
from his writings. An open and undisguised 
contempt of every thing base and sordid, what- 
ever were the rank or power of its possessor, 
formed one of its principal features. We have 
already seen how much the worldly interest 
of our poet was injured by this honourable 
audacity of soul. Those who condemn it must 
be ignorant that the exercise of this feeling 

^^ Of this opinion was Camoens himself. In a letter to 
Don Francisco de Almejda, written a few days before his 
death, he has these prophetic expressions ; ** Veran todos 
quefuy tan aficionado a mi patria, que no solo holvi para 
rnorir en ella, mas para morir con ella!'' "The world 
shall witness how dearly I have loved my country. I have 
returned, not merely to die in her bosom, but to die with 
her !" Sousa, Vid, § xxv. 



25 

produces a more enviable delight tlian any 
which fortune can ever bestow. The poor 
man is not always poor ! 

But gallantry was the leading trait in the 
disposition of Camoens. His amours were 
various and successful. Woman was to him 
as a ministering angel, and for the little joy 
which he tasted in life, he was indebted to 
her. The magic of female charms forms his 
favourite theme, and while he paints the al- 
lurements of the sex with the glowing pencil 
of an enthusiast, he seems transported into 
that heaven which he describes. Nor did this 
passion ever desert him; even in his last days, 
he feelingly regretted the raptures of youth, 
and lingered with delight on the remembrances 
of love. A cavalier named Huy de Camera 4^, 
having called upon our author to finish a poe- 
tical version of the seven penitential psalms, 
raising his head from his miserable pallet, and 
pointing to his faithful slave, he exclaimed, 

^^ Soma, Vid. § xxix« 



26 

'* Alas, when I was a poet, I was young, and 
happy, and hlest with the love of ladies, but 
now, I am a forlorn deserted wretch : — See^ — 
there stands my poor Antonio, vainly suppli- 
cating ybwrpewce to purchase a little coals — I 
have them not to give him!" The cavalier, 
as Sousa quaintly relates, closed his heart and 
his purse, and quitted the room. Such were 
the grandees of Portugal. 

The genius of Camoens was almost uni- 
versal. Like the great father of English poe- 
iry, there is scarcely any species of writing, 
from the epigram to the epic, which he has 
not attempted, and, like him, he has succeeded 
in all. It is not the province of the translator 
to offer any remarks on the Lusiad, That 
task has already been ably performed. Of 
his minor productions, the general character- 
istic is ease; not the studied carelessness of 
modern refinement, but the graceful and charm- 
ing simplicity of a Grecian muse. When he 
wrote, the Italian model was in fashion, and 
as Camoens was intimately acquainted with 



27 

that language, he too frequently sacrificed his 
hetter judgment to the vitiated opinion of the 
public. Hence the extravagant hyperboles 
and laborious allusions which he has some- 
times, though rarely, employed. But his own 
taste was formed on purer principles. He 
had studied and admired the poems of Pro- 
vence^'. He had wandered through those 
vast catacombs of buried genius, and treasure 
rewarded his search. Even the humble know- 
ledge of Provencal literature, which the pre- 
sent writer possesses, has enabled him to dis- 
cover many passages which the Portuguese 
poet has rendered his own. But we must be 
careful not to defraud Camoens of the merit 
of originality. To that character he has, per- 
haps, a juster claim than any of the moderns, 
Dante alone excepted. The same remark 

■^2 *' The poetry of the Troubadours passed into Arragon 
and Catalonia at the time when the kings of the former ter- 
ritory (counts of Barcelona) became by marriage counts 
of Proveace." 

Mons, Le Grand, Fabliaux, vol, ii. p. 25. 



28 

which Landino applies to that poet may be 
referred to him'^^ He was the first who wrote 
with elegance in his native tongue. The lan- 
guage of Rome, and even of Greece, had been 
refined by antecedent authors, hefore the ap- 
pearance of Virgil or of Homer, but Camoens 
was at once the polisher, and in some degree 
the creator of his own. How deplorable must 
have been its state, when it naturalized two 
thousand new words, on the bare authority of 
a single man'*'^! Monsieur Menage was w^ont 
to pique himself on having introduced into 
French the term '^vtnuste;'^ yet all his influ- 
ence could never make it current, nor indeed 
did it long survive its illustrious fabricator ^^ 

43 i( Trovo Omero la lingua Greca inolta gia abhondante, 
ed elimata da Orfeo, da Miiseo, &c. &c. trovo Virgilio la 
Latina esornata e da Ennio, e da Lucrezio, &c. &c. ma 
inanzi a Dante in lingua Toscana nessuno avea trovato 
alcuna leggiadria, &c," Landing, Comm. in Dant. ed. 
MCCCCXCT. fol, xiii, 

^^ Longuernana, ou Pensees de I'Abbe Dafour, p. 229. 

^^ Ibidem, 



29 

Our author, like many others, has suffered 
much from the cruel kindness of editors and 
commentators. After the first publication of 
his ^' Rimas," there appeared a number of 
spurious compositions, which, for some time, 
were attributed to him. Amongst these was 
a poem to which notice is due, not on account 
of its own merit, but from regard to the repu- 
tation of Camoens. It is called '' The Cre- 
ation and Composition of Man,'^ and is a 
strange medley of anatomy, metaphysics, and 
school divinity. In subject, and occasionally 
in execution, it strikingly resembles the Pur- 
pie Island of Phineas Fletcher; and, like it, is 
a curious example of tortured ingenuity. One 
instance shall suffice. Man is typified under 
the symbol of a tower. The mouth is the 
gateway, and the teeth are described as two 
and thirty millers, clothed in white, and placed 
as guards on either side of the porch. His 
metaphor is more satirically just, when he re- 
presents the tongue as a female, old and expe- 
rienced, whose office was to regulate and as- 
sist the efTorts of the thirty-two grinders afore 



30 

said, all young men of indispensable utility 
and extraordinary powers. 

" Duros e rijos, trinta e dous moleiros 
" De grande forga, e util exercigo V 

He must possess no little credulity who would 
attribute such a work to the author of the 
Lusiad^^ 

There is also another poem which bears his 
name, but is certainly the production of a dif- 
ferent hand. The martyrdom of St. Ursula 
and the eleven thousand virgins forms its sub- 
ject. But it is not probable that the persever- 
ing chastity of these unhappy ladies could ever 
have found favour in the sight of our amorous 
bard. It is still less likely that he would have 
celebrated it in song. 

Camoens is the reputed author of three 
comedies, published at different periods after 

^^ A Treatise on Surgery was printed in 1551, by Ber- 
nardino de Montana. The second part of it is called "El 
Suenot" or, The Dream, and seems to have been the origi- 
nal from -which this singular poem was derived. 



31 

his death. The subject of one of them is the 
amour of Antiochus with his step-mother Stra- 
tonice. There are some fine passages to be 
found in this production ; but, in general, the 
writer seems to have anticipated the taste of 
modern times, and to have considered comedy 
and farce as the same. Another is founded 
on the prolonged adventure of Jupiter and 
Alcmena. The third, and indisputably the 
best, relates the romantic loves of a prince of 
Denmark and a Spanish lady, who, after a 
due course of tribulation, prove to be first 
cousins, and are happily united. But not- 
withstanding the improbability of the design, 
the execution is good ; and, on the whole, this 
composition bears internal evidence of the 
hand of Camoens. 

Something remains to be said of the present 
translation. It is offered to the world with 
diffidence, as the favourite amusement of a 
young mind, which, when obliged to relax 
from severer studies, preferred literary trifling 
to total inactivity. The translator begs to ob- 



32 

serve, that for the most part, he has closely 
copied his author, but that where circum- 
stances demanded, he has not hesitated to be 

" True to his sense — but truer to his fame J' ^ 

Literal versions are justly deemed absurd; 
yet, on the other hand, too great an extension 
of the Horatian precept, '' Nee verbum verho^^ 
has been the bane of many. It has proved to 
the world of translation what the phrase 
"• liberality of sentiment" has been to that of 
morals — the worst of errors have originated 
from both. 

Of the notes little can be said. He who 
comments on amatory verses undertakes but a 
limited office. His utmost effort is the citation 
of parallel passages, unless he substitute admi- 
ration for criticism; a mistake into which, of 
all others, a translator is most likely to fall. 

The present writer has yet to offer his grate- 
ful acknowledgments to those whose advice 



33 

and experience have aided his labours. It is 
with pride and pleasure that he enrolls among 
them the names of Percy and of Hay ley. To 
the kindness of the latter he is indebted for 
the assistance of many valuable books, which 
could not elsewhere be procured; and to the 
almost fatherly friendship of the learned Bi- 
shop of Dromore, his obligations have long 
been unbounded. It is no small honour to so 
young a writer, that he should be countenanced 
by men who, like the good spirits in Trissino, 
sit under the shade of their own laurels, and 
smile encouragement on those who are labour- 
ing up the mountain over which they preside. 



POEMS. 



ETC. 



FROM THE PORTUGUESE 



CAMOENS. 



POEMS. 



CANZON. 



' Lembrevos minha tristeza 
Quejd mais" S^c, 



Canst thou forget the silent tears 

Which I have shed for thee ? 
And all the pangs, and doubts, and fears, 
Which scattered o'er my bloom of years 
The blights of misery ? 

I never close my languid eye 

Unless to dream of thee ; 
My every breath is but the sigh. 
My every sound the broken cry 

Of lasting misery. 



38 

O, when in boyhood's happier scene 

I pledg'd my love to thee, 
How very little did I ween 
My recompense should now have T3een 

So much of misery ! 



39 



MADRIGAL. 



' Se de do vestida andais 
Por quern jd vida no tern,'' (^c. 



VVhy art thou cloth'd in sad array 
For him whose days are done, 

Yet dost no sign of grief display 

For those, thy hghtning glances slay ? 
Though he thou mournest be but one; 

— More than a thousand, they. — 

Thou bendest on the lover's pray'r 

The tearless eye of scorn ; 
And while thou dost, with barbarous care, 
Th' illusive guise of feeling wear, 

Tho' Pity's garb thy breast adorn 
— She never enters there ! 



40 



MADRIGAL. (V.N.) 



*' Mi cor agon me han rouhado 
Y Amor viendo mis enojos,'' S^c. 



The heart that warm'd my guileless breast 
Some wanton hand had thence convey'd. 

But Love, who saw his bard distress'd, 
In pity thus the thief betray'd — 

^^ Tis she who owns the fairest mien 

And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen V^ 

And sure if Love be in the right, 
(And was Love ever in the wrong ?) 

To thee, my first and sole delight. 

That simple heart must now belong — 

Because thou hast the fairest mien 

And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen ! 



41 



MADRIGAL. 

{V.N.) 



** Nad me huscays, Amor ligeyro, 
Nad me buscays," Sfc* 



Pr'ythee, Cupid, hence — desist — - 
Why should I increase the Ust 
Of boys, whose sole delights consist 
In kissing, and in being kiss'd ? 

Starlight eyes, and heaving snows, 
Lips, young rivals of the rose. 
Rounded limbs, and folding arms, 
Dreams of undiscovered charms^. 



42 

Bound their witchery once about me; 
But their prisoner now is free. 
Since on every side I see, 

There are fools enough without me ! 

Prithee, Cupid, hence — desist — 
Why should I increase the list? 



43 

CANZONET. (V.N,) 

(Spanis!).) 



' Tiempo! que todo mudas. 
El verde manto que,''^ S^c» 



Flow'rs are fresh, and bushes green, 

Cheerily the linnets sing; 
Winds are soft, and skies serene; 

Time, however, soon shall throw 
Winter's snow 
O'er the buxom breast of Spring. 

Hope that buds in Lover's heart, 

Lives not through the scorn of years; 
Time makes Love itself depart. 

Time and scorn congeal the mind ; 
Looks unkind 
Freeze Affection's warmest tears ! 



44 

Time shall make the bushes green. 
Time dissolve the winter snow. 
Winds be soft and skies serene, 

Linnets sing their wonted strain, 
But again, 
Blio:hted Love shall never blow ! 



45 

CANZOlSrET. 

(vide remarks on camoens, page 12.) 



"Polo men aparfamento 
Se an'azao,'^ S^'c, 



I whisper'd her my last adieu, 
I gave a mournful kiss; 

Cold show'rs of sorrow bath'd her eyes, 
And her poor heart was torn with sighs ; 
Yet — strange to tell — 'twas then I knew 
Most perfect bliss. — 

For Love, at other times suppressed, 
Was all betray 'd at this — 

I saw him weeping in her eyes, 
I heard him breathe amongst her sighs, 
And ev'ry sob which shook her breast 
Thriird mine with bliss. 



46 

The sight which keen Affection clears, 
How can it judge amiss? 

To me, it pictur'd hope; and taught 
My spirit this consoHng thought. 
That Love's sun, though it rise in tears. 
May set in bhss ! 



47 



RONDEAU. (V.N.) 



Com Amor a rosa, 
Que tad frescaj^' S^c» 



Just like Love is yonder rose, 
Heavenly fragrance round it throws. 
Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose. 
And in the midst of briars it blows. 
Just like Love. 

CuU'd to bloom upon the breast. 
Since rough thorns the stem invest, 
They must be gathered with the rest, 
And with it, to the heart be press'd. 
Just like Love. 

And when rude hands the twin-buds sever, 
They die — and they shall blossom never, 
—Yet the thorns be sharp as ever. 
Just like Love. 



48 



STANZAS. (V.N.) 



*' Os hos vi sempre passar 
No mmido," Sfc, 



I SAW the virtuous man contend 
With life's unnumber'd woes ; 

And he was poor — without a friend — 
Press'd by a thousand foes. 

I saw the Passions' pliant slave 

In gallant trim, and gay ; 
His course was Pleasure's placid Avave, 

His life, a summer's day. — 

And I was caught in Folly's snare, 
And join'd her giddy train — 

But found her soon the nurse of Care, 
And Punishment, and Pain. 



49 

There surely is some guiding pow'r 
Which rightly suffers wrong — 

Gives Vice to bloom its little hour— 
But Virtue, late and long ! 



60 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



''^ Estasse a primavera trasladada 
Em vossa vista j^ Sec, 



Spring, in gay and frolic hour, 
Deck'd my love from many a fiow'r; 
Bade young hyacinths diffuse 
O'er her locks their scented dews ; 
Placed the violet's darker dyes 
In her all imperial eyes ; 
Made her glowing cheek display 

Roses, just their prime attaining; 

But reserv'd the buds for staining 
Lips, as fresh and firm as they ! 

Dear one ! he whose amorous suit 
Pain would turn thy blooms to fruit; 
Does he merit thus from thee. 
Piercing thorns of cruelty ? 



51 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



Quando o sol encuherio vay mostranda 
Ao mundo a luz quietay^ &:c,. 



When day has smil'd a soft farewell. 
And night-drops bathe each shutting bell^ 
And shadows sail along the green, 
And birds are still, and winds serene, 
I wander silently. 

And while my lone step prints the dew. 
Dear are the dreams that bless my view. 
To Memory's eye the maid appears. 
For whom have sprung my sweetest tears, 
So oft, so tenderly : 



52 

I see her, as with graceful care 
She binds her braids of sunny hair ; 
I feel her harp's melodious thrill 
Strike to my heart — and thence be still 

Reecho'd faithfully : 

I meet her mild and quiet eye, 
Drink the warm spirit of her sigh. 
See young Love beating in her breast. 
And wish to mine its pulses press'd, 

God knows how fervently ! 

Such are my hours of dear delight, 
And morn but makes me long for night, 
And think how swift the minutes flew. 
When last amongst the dropping dew, 

I wander'd silently. 



63 



MADRIGAL. (V.N.) 



Nimca manhaa suave 
Estendendo sens rayos,'^ S^c, 



Dear is the blush of early light 
To him who ploughs the pathless deep, 
When winds have rav'd throughout the night, 
And roaring tempests banish'd sleep — 
Dear is the dawn, which springs at last, 
And shows him all his peril past. 

Dearer to me the break of day. 
Which thus thy bended eye illumes ; 
And chasing fear and doubt away. 
Scatters the night of mental glooms, 
And bids my spirit hope at last 
A rich reward for peril past ! 



54 



MADRIGAL. ( V. N.) 



^^ uiii s e confia em Jius olhos 
Nas meninas delles i;t'," Src. 



The simple youth who trusts the fair, 
Or on their plighted truth relies, 

Might learn how vain such follies were. 
By looking in his lady's eyes. 
And catch a hint, if timely wise, 

From those dumb children, cradled there I 

" Poor fool ! thy wayward feats forbear," 
(Those mute advisers seem to say) 

'' And hence with sighs, and tears, and care, 
For thou but fling'st thy heart away. 
To make a toy — for babies' play." 



55 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



*' Nad sei quern assella 
Vossa fermosura,^' ^'c. 



Xhou hast an eye of tender blue, 
And thou hast locks of Daphne's hue, 
And cheeks that shame the morning's break, 
And lips that might for redness make 

Roses seem pale beside them ; 
But whether soft or sweet as they. 
Lady ! alas, I cannot say. 

For I have never tried them. 

Yet, thus created for delight, 
Lady ! thou art not lovely quite. 
For dost thou not this maxim know, 
That Prudery is Beauty's foe. 






56 

A stain that mars a jewel! 
And e'en that woman's angel face 
Loses a portion of its grace,^ 

If woman's heart be cruel I 

Love is a sweet and blooming boy. 
Yet glowing with the blush of joy. 
And (still in youth's delicious prime) 
Tho' ag'd as patriarchal Time, 

The withering god despises : 
Lady ! wouldst thou for ever be 
As fair, and young, and fresh as he — 

Do all that love advises ! 



57 



STANZAS 



* Trabalhos descansarido 
Se para vos trabalhasse/' 4'c» 



Yes — labour, love ! and toil would please, 
Were toil and labour borne for thee ; 

And Fortune's nurslin;^, lapp'd on ease. 
In wealth of heart be poor to me ! 

Why should I pant for sordid gain ? 

Or why Ambition's voice believe ? 
Since, dearest, thou dost not disdain 

The only gift I have to give^ 

Time would with speed of lightning flee;^ 
And every hour a comfort bring. 

And days and years, employ 'd for thee. 
Shake pleasures from their passing wing ! 



58 
CAXZOX. 



" Sepa, quien padece, 
Que en la sepoltura," Sfc, 



O WJEEP not thus — we both shall know 

Ere long a happier doom ; 
There is a place of rest below, 
Where thou and I shall surely go, 
And sweetly sleep, releas'd from woe, 
Within the tomb. 

My cradle was the couch of Care, 

And Sorrow^ rock'd me in it ; 
Fate seem'd her saddest robe to wear, 
On the first day that saw me there. 
And darkly shadow'd with despair 

My earliest minute. 



i 



59 

E'en then the griefs I now possess 

As natal boons were given; 
And the fair form of Plappiness, 
Which hover'cl round, intent to bless, 
Scar'd by the phantoms of distress, 

Flew back to heaven ! 

For I was made in Joy's despite. 
And meant for Misery's slave ; 
And all my hours of brief delight 
Fled, like the speedy winds of night. 
Which soon shall wheel their sullen flight 
Across my grave ! 



60 



CANZON. 

(Spams!)0 



' Pites me distes tal herida 
Con gana de darme muerte^^' ^x. 



When I am done to death by thee, 

And cold thy lover lies ; 
Turn to me, dear one ; turn and see 

Thy beauty's sacrifice ! 

Turn to me, dear — and haply then 
Thy looks may life restore ; 

And teach the heart to beat again, 
That beat for thee before ! 



61 

Turn to me, dear ! and should a gem 
On those soft eyeUds shme— 

Fall, holy balm — fall fast from them 
In showers, and waken mine, — 

Turn — and from lips that breathe of May, 

If one kind kiss be given, — 
He who in deathly slumber lay 

Slept — but to wake in Heaven ! 



62 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



■ Os oIJios socegaclos,^' Sfc, 



Lady ! when, with glad surprise, 
I meet thy soft and shaded eyes, 
Or lost in dreams of love behold 
Thy waving locks of darkened gold. 
Or press the lip, whose dew discloses 
Sweets, that seem the breath of roses, 
Lady ! I sigh — and with a tear. 
Swear earth is heav'n — if thou art near ! 

Eut when (the hour of transport o'er) 
My soul's delight is seen no more. 
Remembering all thy host of charms, 
I tremble then with wild alarms ; 

And, taught by jealous doubt, discover 
In every gazing youth a lover ; 
Confessing with a silent tear 
That heaven and hell are wondrous near ! 



63 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



' Se as penas com que Amor tad mal me traia 
Permiterem que eu tanto viva dellas,'^ S^^c, 



Should I but live a little more, 
Xor die beneath thy cold disdain, 

These eyes shall see thy triumphs o'er, 
Shall see the close of Beauty's reign. 

For Time's transmuting hand shall turn 
Thy locks of gold to '^ silvery wires;" 

Those starry lamps shall cease to burn. 
As now, with more than heav'nly fires. 

Thy ripen'd cheek no longer wear 
The ruddy blooms of rising dawn ; 

And every tiny dimple there 

In wrinkled lines be roughly drawn !. 



64 

And oh ! what show'rs of fruitless woe 
Shall fall upon that fatal day — 

How wilt thou weep the frequent '' NO," 
How mourn occasion past away. 

Those vain regrets, and useless sighs, 
Shall in my heart no pity move — 

I'll deem them but a sacrifice 

Due to the shade of buried Love ! 



65 



STANZAS. 

TO NIGHT. (V. N.) 



" Segreda noite Amiga, a que obedego, 
As rosas," S^'c, 



Night ! to thee my vows are paid; 
Not that e'er thy quiet shade 
Me in bower of daUiance laid, 

Bless'd and blessing, covers ! 
No — for thy friendly veil was made 

To shroud successful lovers; 
And I, Heaven knows. 
Have never yet been one of those 
Whose love has prov'd a thornless rose ! 



But since (as piteous of my pain) 
Goddess ! when I to thee complain 
Of truth despis'd, and hard disdain, 

Thou dost so mutely listen; 
For this, around thy solemn fane 

Young buds I strew, that glisten 
With tears of woe 
By jealous Tithon made to flow, 
From Mornino; — thine eternal foe ! 



67 



CANZON. (V. N.) 



'' Arvore! que branch e bello/' S^c, 



Thou jiride of the forest ! whose dark branches 

spread 

To the sigh of the south- wind their tremulous 

green, 

And the tinge of whose buds is as rich and as red 

As the mellowina: blushes of maiden eiditeen ! 



O'er thee may the tempest in gentleness blow, 
And the lightnings of Summer pass harmlessly 
by; 

For ever thy buds keep their mellowing glow, 
Thy branches still wave to the southernly sigh. 



68 

Because in thy shade, as I lately reclin'd, 
The sweetest of visions arose to my view; 

^Twas the swoon of the soul — 'twas the transport 
of mind — 
'Twas the happiest minute that ever I knew. 

For this shalt thou still be my favourite tree, — 
In the heart of the poet thou never canst fade ; 

It shall often be warm'd by remembering thee. 
And the dream which I dreamt in thy tremu- 
lous shade. 



CANZONET. (V. N.) 



*' Eu canteyjd, e agora," <^x. 



How sprightly were the roundelays 
I sang in Love's beginning days ; 
— Now, alas, I but deplore 
Death of all that bless'd before ! 

Then my heart was in its prime, 
('Twas Affection's budding time I) 
— It is broken now — and knows 
One sense only — sense of woes ! 

Joy was whilom dash'd with ill, 
Yet my songs were cheerful still ; 
— They were like the captive's strains, 
Chanted to the sound of chains I 
F 



70 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



** A minha dovj e o nome.,^* ^ c 



Why should I indiscreetly tell 
The name my heart has kept so well ? 
Why to the senseless crowd proclaim 
For whom ascends my bosom-flame ? 

Alas, there are but very few 

Who feel as I for ever do — 

And hear, with shrinking sense of pain, 

Holy words from lips profane ! 

For she is holy in my sight 

As are the seraph forms of light; 

And that bless'd name denotes whate'er 

Of good there be — or chaste — or fair. 



71 

Of her, in time of heaviest woe, 
I think, and tears forget to flow ; 
Of her, in passion's fervid dreams. 
And rapture's self the sweeter seems.— 

And shall the name, whose magic pow'r 
Throws light on every passing hour. 
Shall it, a word of usage grown, 
By every heartless fool be known ? 

No — let it, shrin'd within my breast 
A little saint, for ever rest. 
With pious ardours worship'd there. 
Yet never mention'd, but in pray'r ! 



F 2 



72 



CANZONET. ( V. N.) 



*' A DAMA QUE JURAVA PELOS SEUS OLHOS." 

THE LADY WHO SWORE BY HER EYES. 



' Quando me quiz enganar 
A minha hella perjuraf'^ t^c . 



Tt HEN the girl of my heart is on perjury bent, 
The sweetest of oaths hides the falsest intent, 
And Suspicion, abash'd, from her company flies. 
When she smiles like an angel — and swears by 

her eyes. 

For in them such magic, she knows, is displayed, 
That a tear can convince, and a look can persuade ; 
And she thinks that I dare not, or cannot, refuse 
To believe on their credit whate'er she may choose. 



73 

But IVe learn'd from the painful experience of 

youth, 
That vehement oaths never constitute truth; 
And IVe studied those treacherous eyes, and I 

find 
They are mutable signs of a mutable mind ! 

Then, dear one, I^d rather, thrice rather believe 
Whate'er you assert, even though to deceive, 
Than that you '' by your eyes'' should so wick- 
edly swear, 
And sin against heaven — for heaven is there I 



74 



PART OF THE THIRD ELEGY. 

(V. N.) 



' O Sulmonense Ovidio desterrado 
Na aspereza," S^c. 



When that sweet bard, to whose harmonious 
hand 
Love's golden harp in softest warblings sigh'd. 
By stars unkind was too severely tried, 
And forc'd afar from Rome's parental land 
To pace with weary step the Pontic strand ; 

What a cold rush of recollections came 
Across the exile's sad and sinking mind, 
When Memory drew the joys he left behind! 
Her, who so long had fann'd his chaster flame. 
His babes — his home — and all that charm'd 

before. 
And all that bless'd him once, — but ne'er shall 
bless him more. 



75 

Poor banisli'd wretch ! — he had not pow'rs to bear 

The vast unutterable pangs of thought; 

But still in woods, and wilds, and caverns 
sought 
A secret covert from the murderer Care ; 
Now slowly wandering through the midnight air, 

In briar'd dell he roams, or pathless grove, 
While vainly sings the mellow nightingale. 
Unheard by him — although she chant a tale 

So like his own — ^so sad — so full of love — 
Clos'd are his ears — and dim his moisten'd eyes, 
That view with dull regard the cold and starry 
skies. 



76 



CANZONET. 



*' Nad nos engane a riqueza, 
Porqu" <^x. 



oiNCE in this dreary vale of tears 
No certainty but death appears. 
Why should we waste our vernal years 

In hoarding useless treasure ? 

No — let the young and ardent mind 
Become the friend of humankind, 
And in the generous service find 

A source of purer pleasure! 



77 

Better to live despis'd and poor 
Than Guilt's eternal stings endure; 
The future smile of God shall cure 

The wound of earthly woes. 

Vain world ! did we but rightly feel 
What ills thy treacherous charms conceal, 
How would we long from thee to steal 

To Death — and sweet repose ! 



78 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



" Vi mogo, e pequenino,^' S^x, 



I MET. Love wand'ring o'er the wild, 
In semblance of a simple child ; 
I heard his name, and in the sound 
So much of sweet persuasion found. 
That, piteous of his tears, I press'd 
The little darling to my breast. 
And watch'd his quiet slumbers there 
With all a father's tender care ! 

From day to day the orphan grew, 
And with him my affection too ; 
Till at the last, around my mind 
The winning boy so closely twin'd, 
I learnt his baby form to prize. 
Like one of those within mine eyes. 
And lov'd the young adopted more 
Than ever sire did son before ; 



79 

I had a bank of favourite flow'rs, 
Which blossom'd e'en in wintry hours, 
Content, the bosom's thornless rose. 
And innocence, and heart's repose; 
— Love, hke a rude and wanton boy, 
Broke into my bow'rs of joy. 
Tore Content's young roses thence, 
Kill'd repose and innocence ! 

Ah, wretch ! what mischief hast thou done 
To him who lov'd thee like a son ! 
How couldst thou dim the doting eyes 
Which did thee hke their babies prize? 
How break the heart of him who press'd 
Thee, cold and weeping, to his breast. 
And watch'd thy quiet slumbers there, 
With all a father's tender care ? 



80 

GANZON. 

" EL PEQUENO SONRISO/' 

FROM 

RIACHUELO. 



TO INES DE GUETE. 

Dear Ines, wouldst thou but believe 
A heart that knows not to deceive, 

(Alas ! nor longer free) ; 
That faithful heart should truly tell 
The secret charm, the tender spell, 

That bound it first to thee. 

^Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes 
The baby Love for ever lies 

On couches dipp'd in dew ; 
^Tis not because those eyes have won 
Their temper'd light from April's sun. 

From Heaven their tints of blue ! 



81 

^Tis not that o'er a bank of snow 
Thy parted tresses lightly flow, 

In waves of lucid gold; 
Xor yet because the hand of grace 
Has form'd that dear enchanting face 

In beauty's happier mould ! 

It was not these — but from my soul, 
It was a little smile that stole ^ 

The cherish'd sweets of rest ; 
And ever since, from dawn to night 
And night to dawn, it haunts my sight, 

In dimples gaily dress'd. 



^ This sentiment is very like some beautiful lines of Cle- 
ment Marot. 



Du ris de Madame rf' Allebret. 



'* EUe ha tres bien cette gorge d'albastre, 

Ce doulx parler, ce clair tainct, ce beaulx yeux, 

Mais en effect, ce petit ris follastre 

C'est a mon gre ce qui luy sied le mieux." 



82 

E'en now by Fancy's eyes are seen 
The polish'd rows that break between 

Two lips that breathe of May ^ ; 
E'en now — but oh, by Passion taught. 
Young Fancy forms too bold a thought 

For timorous Love to say ! 

Yet, Ines — wouldst thou but believe 
A heart that knows not to deceive, 

(Alas ! nor longer free) ; 
'Twould tell thee, thou canst ne'er impart 
A smile of thine to soothe a heart 

More truly bound to thee ! 



- Literally, " De sangre y lecJie phitados." This simile, 
which in our language would convey any idea but that of 
beauty, is nevertheless very common in Spanish Poetry. Ca- 
MOENS too has frequently adopted it. 



SONNETS. 



F. N. 



85 



SOIN^NET I. ( V. N.) 



' O culto divinal ce celebrava 
No templo donde," Sec. 



Sweetly was heard the anthem's choral strain. 
And myriads bow'd before the sainted shrine, 
In solemn reverence to their Sire divine, 

Who gave the Lamb for guilty mortals slain; 

When in the midst of God's eternal fane, 
(Ah, little weening of his fell design !) 
Love bore the heart (which since hath ne'er 
been mine) / ' 

To one, who seem'd of heaven's elected train ; 

For sanctity of place or time were vain, 

'Gainst that blind archer's soul-consuming 
pow'r, 

Which scorns, and soars all circumstance above. 

Oh, Lady ! since I've worn thy gentle chain, 
How oft have I deplor'd each wasted hour, 

When I was free — and had not learn'd to love ! 

G 



m 



SONNET II. (V.N.) 



" O Cisne, quando sente ser chegada 
A Jiora que poem,' ^ Sfc, 



While on the margin of his native shores, 
In death's cold hour the silver cygnet lies. 
Soft melodies of vroe, and tuneful sighs. 

And lamentations wild, he plaintive pours, 

Still charm'd of life — and whilst he yet deplores 
The drear, dark night that seals his closing eyes. 
In murmur'd grief for lost existence — dies ! 

So, Lady (thou, whom still my soul adores). 
While scarcely ling'ring in a world of pain. 

My wearied spirit treads the verge of death — 

O Lady, then thy Poet's parting breath 
Shall faintly animate his final song. 

To tell of broken vows — and cold disdain — 
And unrequited love — and cruel wrong ! 



87 



SONNET III. (V.N.) 



'' Agora toma a espada, agora a pena 
Estacio nosso,'^ S^'c, 



Eustace! or when you wield the ponderous 
spear, 

Or mingle in the bard's romantic throng, 

To you eternal palms of fame belong ! 
To Mars alike, and to the Muses dear, 
Whether adown the waves of war you steer, 

Or sail upon the tranquil streams of song. 

O, if awhile, with cadence clear and strong, 
My reed might hope to charm your learned ear. 

All undebas'd by aught of pastoral sound. 
Then, Eustace, would that humble reed proclaim, 

How you (for valour as for verse renown'd) 

Shall win the warrior's and the poet's praise. 
And like a watch-tow'r on the steeps of fame, 

Show'r light upon the sons of distant days ! 



88 



SONNET IV. (V.N.) 



No mujido poucos anos e cans ados 
Vivi, cheos de vil miseria.'^ Sfc. 



Slowly and heavily the time has run 

Which I have jouriiey'd on this earthly stage; 

For, scarcely entering on my prime of age, 
Grief mark'd me for her own ; ere yonder smi 
Had the fifth lustrum of my days begun: 

And since, cumpulsive Fate and Fortune's rage 

Have led my steps a long, long pilgrimage 
In search of lost repose, but finding none ! 

For that fell star which o'er my cradle hung 
Forc'dmefrom dear Alamquer's rustic charms, 
To combat perils strange and dire alarms, 

Midst that rough main, whose angry waters roar 
Rude Abyssinia's cavern'd cliffs among, 

— Far from green Portugal's parental shore ! 



89 
SONNET V. 

(VID. N. AND LIFE OF CAMOENS, PAGE 12.) 



" Aquella triste e leda madrugada,'' S^c, 



Till Lovers' tears at parting cease to flow, 

Nor sunder'd hearts by strong despair be torn ; 

So long recorded be that April morn 
When gleams of joy were dash'd with show'rs of 

woe: 
Scarce had the purpling east began to glow, 

Of mournful men it saw me most forlorn ; 

Saw those hard pangs, by gentle bosoms borne, 
(The hardest sure that gentle bosoms know !) 

— But oh, it saw Love's charming secret told 
By tears fast dropping from celestial eyes. 
By sobs of grief, and by such piteous sighs 

As e'en might turn th' infernal caverns cold. 
And make the guilty deem their suff'erings ease. 
Their torments luxury — compar'd to these ! 



90 



SONNET VI. (V. N.) 



" Julgame a gente toda por perdido 
Vendome tad entregue a meu cuydadoy'* SfC, 



My senses lost, misjudging men declare. 

And Reason banish'd from her mental throne. 
Because I shun the crowd, and dwell alone 

In the calm trance of undisturb'd despair, 

Tears all my pleasure — all my comfort care ! 
But I have known, from long experience known 
How vain the worship to those idols shown, 

Which charm the world, and reign unrivalFd there : 

Proud dreams of pow'r, and fortune's gilded glare, 
The lights that blaze in tall Ambition's tow'r. 
For such, let others waste life's little hour 

In toil and weary search — but be it mine, 
Lady! to muse of thee — and in my bow'r 

Pour to thy praise the soul-impassion'd line ! 



91 



SONNET VII. (V.N.) 



'* Se quando vos perdi, minha esperanga 
A memoria perderajuntamente," (^c. 



When from my heart the hand of Fortune tore 

Those smihng hopes that cheer'd mine earlier 
day, 

Would that she too had kindly borne away 
The sweetly sad remembrances of yore ! 
fslieuld not then, as now, in tears deplore 

My buried bliss, and comfort's fast decay; 

For Love (on whom my vain dependance lay) 
Still lingering on delights that live no more. 

Kills all my peace — whene'er the tyrant sees 

My spirit taste a little hour of ease ! 
Fell star of fate ! thou never canst employ 

A torment teeming with severer smart. 

Than that which memory pours upon the heart, 
While clinging round the sepulchre of joy ! 



92 



SONNET VIII. (V.N,) 



** Claras agoas efrias do Mondega 
Doce repousOf'^ Sfc^ 



MoNDEGO ! thou, whose waters cold and clear 
Gird those green banks, where fancy fain 

would stay, 
Fondly to muse on that departed day 

When Hope was kind and Friendship seem'd 
sincere; 

— Ere I had purchased knowledge with a tear. 
— Monde go ! though I bend my pilgrim way 
To other shores, where other fountains stray, 

And other rivers roll their proud career, 

Still — nor shall time, nor grief, nor stars severe, 
Nor widening distance e'er prevail in aught 

To make thee less to this sad bosom dear; 
And Memory oft, by old Affection taught. 
Shall lightly speed upon the plumes of thought. 

To bathe amongst thy waters cold and clear ! 



93 



SONNET IX. (V.N.) 



** Quern diz que amor he f also ou enganoso 
Ligeyro iiigrato/' Sfc, 



Lives there a wretch, who would profanely dare 

On Love bestow a tyrant's barbarous name, 

And, foe to every soft delight, proclaim 
His service, slavery ; its wages, care ? 
For ever may he prove it so, nor e'er 

Feel the dear transports of that generous flame; 

For him nor maiden smile, nor melting dame 
The silent couch of midnight bliss prepare ! 

For much he wrongs the gentlest, best of pow'rs, 
Whose very pangs can charm, and torments please, 

^\Tiom long IVe known, and in whose angriest 
hours 
Such rapture found, as would I not forego, 
Xo— not forego, for all the dead, cold ease 

Which dull Indifference could e'er bestow ! 



94 



SONNET X. (V.N.) 



' Dizei, Senhora, da belleza idea 
Parafazerdes,^' Sfc. 



Come, tell me, fairest, from what orient mine 
Where undiscovered lurk the springs of day, 
Did thy triumphant tresses steal away 

Their sunny tinges, and their hues divine ? 

What magic makes thine eye so sweetly shine, 
Like the clear breaking of a summer's day ? 

And when did Ocean's rifled cave resign 
The pearly wealth thy parted lips betray. 

When they are sever'd by seducing smiles ? 

— ^Yethear me, fairest, since, with barbarous care, 

Such store of blandishment and dangerous wiles 
To thee thy star's propitious genius gave, — 

— Warn'd by the self-adorer's fate, beware, 
Nor gaze on yonder fount's reflecting wave ! 



95 



SONNET XL (V.N.) 



"Apollo e as nove musas descantando 
Com a dourada lira" Sfc, 



What time the liberal Muses deign'd to shower 

Soft inspirations o'er my golden lyre, 

Love, only love, would all my notes inspire, 
While thus I sang, within my cottage-bow'r — 
^* — O blessed be the day, and bless'd the hour. 

When first I felt the sweets of young desire ; 

Bless'd be the eyes that woke my am'rous fire, 
And bless'd the heart, so soon that own'd their 
pow'r !" 

Such was of old my cheerful roundelay, 
Till time made all the dear delusion flee. 

Tore from my heart, not love, but hope away. 
And turning all my sunny scenes to night, 
Veil'd every prospect from my sick'ning sight. 

Save those of greater ills—if greater be I 



SONNET XII. (V.N.) 



*' Em flor vos arrancou d^entao crescida 
Ah Senhor Dom Antonio" S^'c, 



Dear lost Antonio ! whilst I yet deplore 

My bosom's friend — and mourn the withering 

blow 
Which laid, in manly flow'r, the warrior low, 

Whose valour sham'dthe glorious deeds of yore; 

E'en while mine eyes their humid tribute pour. 
My spirit feels a sad delight, to know 
That thou hast but resign'd a world of woe 

For one, where pains and griefs shall wound no 
more; 
Tho' torn, alas, from this sublunar sphere. 

For ever torn, by War's ungentle hand, 

Still, were the Muse but as Affection strong. 
My dead Antonio should revive in song. 

And, grac'd by Poetry's '' melodious tear," 

Live in the memory of a grateful land ! 



97 



SONNET XIII. (V,N.) 



" A fermosura desta fresca serra 
E a sombra dos verdes castanheiros ,''' S^c, 



Silent and cool, now fresh'ning breezes blow 
Where groves of chestnut crown yon shadowy 

steep ; 
And all around the tears of Evening weep 

For closing day, whose vast orb, westering slow. 

Flings o'er th' embattled clouds a mellower glow, 
While hum of folded herds, and murmuring deep, 
And falling rills, such gentle cadence keep, 

As e'en might soothe the weary heart of woe ; 
Yet what to me is eve, what evening airs. 

Or falling rills, or ocean's murmuring sound. 
While sad and comfortless I seek in vain 
Her who in absence turns my joy to cares, 

And as I cast my listless glances round. 
Makes varied scenery but varied pain ! 



SONNET XIV. (V.N.) 



" Senhora minha se a fortuna imiga 
Que em minha fim,^^ Sfc, 



My best belov'd ! — although unpitying skies 
And wrathful fortune sternly thus conspire 
To bid thy servant's lingering steps retire 
Par from the tempered gleam of beauty's eyes — 
Bound still to thine by Love's eternal ties, 

That heart remains, where chaste and warm 

desire 
Yet fondly glows with all its former fire, 
And Death's cold touch and wasting time defies — 
— Yes — and as urg'd by Fate's commands I go 

To farthest regions, and unkindest shores, 
Oh there, thy magic name's mysterious charm 
Breath'd in a sigh, shall danger's self disarm, 

And while the combat raves, or tempest roars. 
Lull the loud storm, and soothe the threat'ning 
foe! 



99 



SONNET XV. ( V. N.) 



' JEu canteyjd d'amor tad docemente 
Que" Sfc. Sfc, 



I SANG of love — and in so sweet a strain 

That hearts most hard were soften'd at the sound, 
And blushing girls, who gaily throng'd around, 

Felt their souls tingle with delightful pain — 

For quaintly did my chanted songs explain 
Those little secrets that in love abound — • 
Life in a kiss, and death in absence found — 

Feign'd anger — slow consent — and coy disdain. 
And hardihood, at length with conquest crown'd. 

Yet did I not with these rude lips proclaim 
From whom my song such sweet instructions 

drew, 
Too weak, alas ! to pour the praises due 

From youthful gratitude, to grace the name 
Of her who kindly taught me all she knew ! 



100 



SONNET XVI. ( V. N.) 



" Se da celebre Laura afermosura 
Hum numeroso Cisne," Sfc, 



If those fam'd charms which grac'd the Tuscan fak 

Could wake a bard so tender and so true, 

Lady ! to you, sure heav'nly songs are due, 
Smce Heav'n has form'd you with pecuHar care; 
Then how, alas ! shall humble Liso dare 

Attune his simple melodies to you? 

Must I not trust to that kind chance anew 
Which whilom wove the rosy bands I bear, 

(When first it gave you to my amorous view) : 
— For certes. Lady, you derive your birth 

From yon pure sky, and did from thence descend, 
To cherish virtue on this lowly earth. 

And mortal hearts of baser mould amend. 
By bright example of superior worth ! 



101 



SONNET XVII. (V.N.) 



' Eu vivia de lagrlmas izento 
Niim engano tad doce,'' S^c, 



From sorrow free, and tears, and dull despair, 
I liv'd contented in a sweet repose ; 
I heeded not the happier star of those 

Whose amorous wiles achiev'd each conquer'd 
fair; 

(Such bliss I deem'd full dearly bought with care) ; 
Mine was meek Love, that ne'er to frenzy rose. 
And for its partners in my soul I chose 

Benevolence, that never dreamt a snare. 

And Independence, proudly cherish'd there ! 

— Dead now is Happiness — 'tis past, 'tis o'er — 
And in its place, the thousand thoughts of yore. 

Which haunt my melancholy bosom, seem 

Like the faint memory of a pleasing dream — 
They charm a moment — and they are no more ! 

H 



102 
SONNET XVIII. 

(v. N, AND LIFE OF CAMOENS, PAGE 12). 



'* Lindo sutil trangado queficaste,'^ ^c. 



Dear band, which once adorn'd my worship'd 
fair, 

Pledge of that better gift I hope to gain, 

In just reward of Love's long suffer'd pain; 
What mighty transport would my bosom share 
Had I but won a tress of that crisp hair, 

Whose rich luxuriance late thou didst restrain ! 

Much though I prize thee, must my heart com- 
plain. 
Since deem'd not worthy next its pulse to wear 

A little portion of that precious gold ! 
Dear band, my miser soul were griev'd indeed. 

That stars severe and wayward fate withhold 
Truth's just reward, and long affection's meed, 

But that I know 'tis in Love's legends told. 
Gifts, small as these, to greatest blessings lead ! 



103 



SONNET XIX. (V. N.) 



'' Senhor Joad Lopez ^ o meu baixo estado, 
Ontem vi posto em," S^c. 



O Lopez ! yesterday the stars were kind, 
And on my lowly state so fairly smil'd, 
That even thou, though Fortune's favour 'd child, 

For mine would gladly have thy lot resigned. 

Her form I saw, who chains thy prison'd mind. 
Her voice I heard, which musically mild. 
While like a spell it every sense beguil'd. 

E'en lull'd to peace the rude and restless wind ! 

— Lopez ! that voice such rare persuasion arm'd. 
That, in a word, our hearts it better charm'd 

Than others could in thrice a thousand more; — 
How have I since 'gainst Fortune rav'd and 
Love, 

'Cause that blind boy compels us thus t' adore 
Her, whom high fortune rears our hopes above i 



104 



SONNET XX. (V.N.) 



' Os olhos oiide o casto Amor ardia 
Ledo de se i;er," S^'c. 



Those charming eyes, within whose starry sphere 
Love whilom sat, and smil'd the hours away, 
Those braids of hght that sham'd the beams of 
day. 

That hand benignant, and that heart sincere; 

Those virgin cheeks, which did so late appear 
Like snow-banks scattered with the blooms of 

May, 
Turn'd to a little cold and worthless clay, 

Arie gone— ^for ever gone — and perish here, 

—But not unbath'd by Memory's warmest tear ! 
— Death ! thou hast torn, in one unpitying hour. 
That fragrant plant, to which, while scarce a 
flow'r, 

The mellower fruitage of its prime was given; 

Love saw the deed — and as he linger'd near, 
Sigh'd o'er the ruin, and return'd to Heav'n ! 



105 



STANZAS. 



' Mi nueva y dulce querela 
Es invisible,'^ Sec. 



Within my bosom's cell I bear 
A recent wound — a valued woe ; 

It lurks unseen and buried there, 
No gazing eyes my secret know. 

It was, perhaps, too plainly told, 

When last I heard the speaking maid ; 

— The rock untouch'd was hard and cold, 
—The stricken flint its fires betray'd ! 



106 



LUSIAD. CANTO VI. 



ESTANCIA XXXVIII. 

JEm quanto este conselho sefazia, 

No f undo aquoso^ a leda e lassafrota 
Com vento sossegado proseguia 

Pelo tranquillo mar, a longa rota : 
Era no tempo quando a luz do dia 
Do Eoo emisferio esta remota 
Os do quarto da prima se deitavam 
Para o segundo os oiitros despertavam. 



107 



THE 

NIGHT SCENE 

IN THE VI. LUSIAD. (V. N,) 



XXXVIII. 

Meantime as thus below the murmuring deeps 
In solemn council meet the watery train, 

Her bold career the wearied navy keeps, 

Yet cheer'd by Hope, while o'er the tranquil 
main. 

To silence hush'd, the brooding tempest sleeps : 
— 'Twas at the hour, when long the solar wain 

Had roird down Heav'n — and rous'd from warm 
repose, 

Slow at their comrades' call the second watch arose. 



lOB 

XXXIX. 

Vencidos vem do sono^ e mal despertos 
Bocejando a meudo, sa ericostavao 

Pelas antenas, todos mal cuhertos 

Contra os agudos ares, que assopravad; 

Os olhos contra sen querer abertos 
Mal esfregando, os membros estiravad, 

Remedios contra o sono buscar querem, 

Historias contaruy casos mil referem. 



XL. 

Com que melhor podemos, hum dizia, 
Este tempo passar, que he tad pesado, 

Senao com algum conto de alegria 
Com que no s deixe o sojio carregado? 

Responde Leonardo^ que trazia 
Pensamentos defirme namoradoy 

Que contos poderemos ter melhores 

Para passar o tempo^ que de amores ? 



109 

XXXIX. 

Scarcely awake, against the tapering mast, 
Heavy and cold recline the languid crew; 

The broad sail, flapping, wards the nightly blast, 
Which as across the decks it keenly blew 

Through their worn garbs with piercing chillness 

pass'd ; [subdue 

And each tir'd limb they stretch, lest sleep 

Their lids that long to close, and all devise 

By converse short and forc'd, to shun his soft 
sui-prise. 

XL. 

'' How can we better these dull hours employ, 
*^ How sleep defy," one watchful youth de- 
mands, 

'' Than by some gay romance, some tale of joy, 
*' To spur the time that now so stilly stands ?'' 

*^ Yes," Leonard cries (whom long the archer boy 
Had prison'd fast in beauty's gentle bands), 

'^ Yes," Leonard cries, ^''twill charm the tedious 
night [light." 

**To tell of venturous loves, and deeds of soft de- 



no 



XLI. 

Nad he disse Velloso, cousajusta 

Tratar bi^anduras em tanta aspereza, 

Que trabalho do mar que tanto crista 
Nad sofre amoresy nem delicadeza ; . 

Antes de guerra fervida e robusta 
A nossa historia seja, pois dureza 

Nossa vida ha de ser, segwido entendo 

Que trabalho por vir mo est a dizendo. 



XLII. 

Consent em nisto todos ^ encomendad 
A Velloso, que conte isto^ que aprova; 

Contarei, disse sem que me reprendad 
De contar cousa fabulosa ou nova: 

E por que os que me ouvirem daqui aprendad 
A fazer feitos grandes de alta prova^ 

Dos nacidos direi na nossa terra, 

E estes sejao os doze de Inglaterra. 



Ill 



XLI. 
** Perish that thought!" the bold Veloso cries; 
^' Who talks of Love in danger's dire extremes? 
^^ Shall we, while giant perils round us rise, 

^^ Shall we attend to those enerving themes ? 
^* No — rather some tremendous tale devise 

'^ Of war's alarms, for such our state beseems — 
'^ So shall we scorn our present ills, and learn 
" To cope those coming toils my prophet eyes 
discern." 

XLII. 
He spoke — and all accord — and all exclaim, 

^'To thee, Veloso, thee, the task is due!" 
'' None then," he cries, " shall this narration blame 

'* For slighted truth, or fables told as true; 
'^ Arms I rehearse, and such high feats of fame, 

'' That all who hear shall glorious deeds pursue 
'* Fir'd by the praise their own compatriots gaiq'd, 
*^ Who erst the tilted fight 'gainst England's 
Twelve maintain'd. 



112 



XLIII. 
No tempo que do reyno a redea leve 

Joaojilho de Pedro moderava, 
Depois que sossegado e livre o teve, 

Do visinho poder que o molest av a ; 
JLa, na grand Inglaterra que de neve 

Boreal sempre abunda^ semeava 
Afera Erinnis dura, e ma cizania 
Que lustre fosse a nossa JLusitania ! 



113 



XLIII. 

" When mighty Juan held the regal reins, 

^' (Great Pedro's son) for gentlest sway re- 
nown'd, 

'* What time he boldly burst those despot chains 
^* Which proud Castile about his country bound. 

'' It happ'd in haughty England's cold domains, 
'* Where Boreal snows for ever clothe the 
ground, 

^^ Dire feuds arose — and from that distant shore, 

'' Eternal liohts of fame our Lusian warriors bore." 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



MADRIGAL. P. 40. 

This is one of the many poems which Camoens 
originally wrote in Spanish. There are some of 
his compositions of a more motley description, in 
which he blends two languages together, and 
walks, as he expresses it, '' with one foot in Por- 
tugal and the other in Spain." Com hum pe a Por- 
tugiieza, e outro a Castelhana, 



MADRIGAL. P. 41. 



MatoSy in one of his letters, quotes this little 
Poem as the production of Camoens, and on 
that authority only it is here inserted. 



118 



CANZONET. P. 43 



Our poet has managed this trite and common 
sentiment in his happiest manner. Nothing is 
more frequent in Provencal poetry than gay and 
romantic descriptions of Spring, ^' wherein eche 
thynge reneweth, saue onelie the Louer^,''^ 



RONDEAU. P. 47. 

Perhaps this little Poem, in its present form, 
has no very just claim to the title which it bears. 
Like the preceding one, it seems to have been 
suggested by a hint of Ausias March, a Trouba- 
dour. 

Sweet is love, and sweet is the rose. 
Each has a flow'r, and each has a thorn ; 
Roses die when the cold wind blows. 
Love, it is kill'd by lady's scorn ! 

1 Siirrj. 



119 



STANZAS. P. 48. 



These fine moral lines are remarkable for their 
extreme simplicity. The third Stanza probably 
alludes to one of those little transgressions of 
which our Poet was often guilty, but of which 
he seldom repented. The commentators suppose 
that it relates to a negro girl, of whom he was 
passionately fond. They endeavour to defend 
the irregularity of his taste, by comparing it to 
the penchant of the wisest of men for the dusky 
Queen of Sheba. 

This negro slave was named Joanna, and to 
her Camoens addressed some pretty verses, 
beginning. 

The captive which Victory gave to my arms 
Has prison'd my soul in the chain of her charms ; 
So I soothe her with gentle good-humour, that she. 
In return, may be more than good-humour'd to 
me! &c. &c. 



120 



CANZONET. P. 50. 

A mistress composed of flowers is by no means 
a rarity in the garden of the Muses. Our own 
Spenser has quaintly pursued this thought^. 

*^ Her lippes did smell hke unto gilliflowers, 
'' Her ruddie cheeks like unto roses red; 
'^ Her snowy browes like budded bellamours, 
'* Her lovelie een like pin kes but neiclie spied; 
^' Her goodiie bosome like a strawberrie bed; 
'^ Her neck like to a hunch of cullamhines, 
" Her brest like lillies 'ere their leaves be shed, 
" Her nipples like young blossom'd jessamines/' 
&c. 

It must be confessed that the 4th and 6th lines 
of this fanciful Sonnet convey strange ideas of 
the lady's charms. 

1 Sonnet 64 : And Shakspeare, Sonnet 99. 



121 



CANZON. P. 51. 



Imitated from the 34th Sonnet, The Translator 
humbly presumed, that the graces of this charm- 
ing little Poem would appear to greater advantage 
in its present form than in that of a Sonnet. 

The creative powers of fancy, during the ab- 
sence of a mistress, form a favourite subject of 
Provencal poetry. There is a very comical story 
somewhere of a fastidious gallant, whose per- 
verted imagination conjured up circumstances, 
that finally put Love to death. 

Camoens seems to have taken the hint of this 
Poem from Petrarch, Sonnet 90. 

— Sennuccio i vb eke sappi, Sfc, 

Laura mi volve — 

Qui tutta umile e qui la vidi altera, 

Or aspra, or piana, or dispietata, or pia^ 

Or vestirsi, &fc, ^c. 



122 

And Petrarch was, perhaps, indebted for the 
idea to Ovid. Fast. 2. 769. 

Carpitur attonitos absentis imagine sensus 
Ille: recordanti plura magisque placent : 

Sic sedit, sic cultafuit, sic stamina nevit, 
Neglected collo sic jacuere comce; 

Hos hahuit vultus, hcec illi verba fuerunt , 
Hie color, hcec fades, hie decor oris erat ; 

Sic quamvis aberat placitce prcesentia formce. 
Quae deder at prcesens forma manebat amor, 

IMITATED. 

Strange is the power of thought — oft Memory 

To view the maid in visionary dreams, [seems 

Or bending o'er the loom with patient care, 

Her white neck shaded by descending hair, 

Or when her song the lapse of time beguiles. 

Or sagely sad, or ripen'd into smiles ; 

The same that blush, the same that faultless grace. 

The same those gay bewitcheries of face ; 

— Love deems her near — and hangs upon the form. 

Which Fancy draws — as wishing and as warm ! 



123 



MADRIGAL. P. 53. 

IMfTATED FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE FIFTH ODE. 

Boscan, a celebrated Spanish Poet, has a 
thought somewhat similar. 

Como despues del tempestoso dia 
La tarde clara suele ser sabrosa, 
Y despues de la noche tenehrosa 

El resplandor del Sol plazer emhia ; 

Assi en su padecer el alma mia 

Con la tarde del Men es tan gozosa, ^c. 

Sweet is evening's tranquil time, 
When the day of storms is done ; 

Sweet the clear cold hour of prime. 
Night just scatter'd by the sun; 

— Sweet — but sweeter far to me 

The dawn of hope difFus'd by thee ! 



124 



MADRIGAL. P. 54. 



The same term in Portuguese signifies both the 
pupil of the eye and a child. Hence the turn of 
this fanciful poem. Numberless and wretched 
have been the concetti to which this unfortunate 
pun has given birth. In our own language, some- 
thing of the same kind has been attempted by 
Dr. Donne : 

^* So to engraft our handes as yet, 

*' Was all the meanes to make us one, 

'^ And pictures in our eyes to get 
'' Was all our propagation." 

THE ECSTACY. 

Donne's was the age of quaintness, and it is 
surprising that this idea has not been more rami- 
fied and tortured by the English metaphysical 
poets of that school. 



125 



CANZONET. P. 55. 



Some of the comment of Faria has been in- 
troduced into the translation of this poem, and 
certain very necessary liberties taken with the 
original. 

^' hou hast an eye,''^ &c. Notwithstanding all 
that has been said, and all that has been written 
to disprove the existence of a real and positive 
standard of beauty, were we to argue from the 
universality of poetical taste in every age, we 
should place the essence of female loveliness in 
the description before us. — Locks of auburn and 
eyes of blue have ever been dear to the sons of 
song. The Translator almost ventures to doubt 
whether these two ideas do not enter into every 
combination of charms created by the poetical 
mind. The former are almost constantly accom- 
panied by the advantages of complexion, and by 
that young freshness which defies the imitation 
of art. Sterne even considers them as indicative 



126 

of moral qualities the most amiable, and asserts 
that they denote exuberance in all the warmer, 
and, consequently, in all the better feelings of the 
human heart. The Translator does not wish to 
deem this opinion as wholly unfounded. He is, 
however, aware of the danger to which such a 
confession exposes him,— but he flies for protec- 
tion to the temple of 

" AuREA Venus." 



CANZONET. P. 62. 

This Poem is attributed to Camoens on very 
slight authority. It is certainly a curious speci- 
men of the doggish jealousy too often found in 
the amours of his country. 

" — that Heaven is wondrous nearJ^ This sen- 
timent strikingly resembles some lines of Guillem 
Aesjner, an old Provencal Poet. 

'^ Quant eu li quier merce en genoillos 
'' Ela mi colpa, et mi met ochaisos 



127 



'' E Vaigua irt cur avel per mer lo vis 
'^ E ela me fai uiig regard amoros 
'' Et eu le hais la bucha, eTs ols am'dos 
" — Adoncq mi par ung joi de Paradis^ T 



IMITATED. 

When at her feet I long have pray'd, 
With pleading eloquence of sighs, 

What bhss to hear the melting maid 
In lowly murmurs bid me — '^ Rise." — 

How all my bosom-pulses beat 
When with a kiss I seal her eyes ! 

My soul springs forth her soul to meet, 
— They meet and mix — in Paradise ! 

^ Tjrwhitt's Chaucer. Gloss, 



128 



CANZON. P. 63. 



The shortness of life, says one of our most ele- 
gant writers, is equally favourable to the argu- 
ments of the voluptuary and of the moralist. 
Every hard-hearted fair one, from the beginning 
of time, has been reminded that 

'* La Beaulte n^est ung fruict de garde,^' 

This Canzon seems to have been suggested by 
part of the 63d Chant, oi Ausias March, the Pro- 
vencal Poet. 

'* No sabea prou si leixau temps fug ir 

*^ — Et temps perdut no polt ester cohrat,^' &c. 

Did ever yet a moment stay 

To please the dallying lover ? 
And who that lost the lucky day 

Could e'er that loss recover? &c. &c. 



129 
'' Thy locks of gold ^'^ ^c. So Bembo, 

''' Quando le chiome d'or caro e lucente 
'* Saranno argente^ &c. 

The Translator has, in this place, taken a line 
from Drummond. 

'* Those vain regrets ^^^ &c. Gil Polo, a Spanish 
Poet, prettily treats this thought iu his Diana, 
Lib. ii. 

'' P or que toma tal vinganga, 

'^ De vosotras el amor, 

'* Que entonces os da dolor 

" Quando osfalta la esperanga T 

Thy pride of charms shall all decay, 
And thou shalt then its forfeit pay, 
And vainly weep thy former scorn. 

Thy thousand lovers' slighted pray'rs, — 
And grief shall in thy heart be born, 

When love is dead in theirs ! 



130 



STANZAS TO NIGHT. P. 65. 

These Stanzas are the conclusion of an Ode to 
the Moon, and are the only part of it which is 
worth the trouble of translation. 

'* Young buds I strew, ^^ &c. The classical 
offering of flowers to Night seems to have been 
suggested by B. Tasso. Rime, Lib. ii. Can. 3. 

** Notte! die dehbo darte 
*' Che cost intenta, e cheta 
" Ascolti le mie voci alta e noiose? 
'' Poiche d'altro honorarte 
^' Non posso, prendi lieta 
'' Queste negre viole e quest e rose 
'' Dair umor rugiadose,^^ &c. 

Night ! since thy pensive ear did not disdain 
The weeping lover's sadly dittied strain, 
Large gifts of gratitude to thee he owes, 
Who kindly listen'd to his tale of woes. — 



131 

Be generous still — his little all receive, 
All that a Poet's humble hands can give ; 
Young violets that boast celestial blue. 
And budding roses, newly dipt in dew ! 

'* By jealous Tithon,^^ &c. The tears of Au- 
rora are frequently mentioned by poets, but it was 
reserved for Phineas Fletcher to give a natural 
explication of them — 

'* Aurora from old Tithon's frostie bed, 
'' (Cold wintrie wither'd Tithon) earlie creepes, 
^^ Her cheek with grief was pale, with anger red, 
^^ Out of her window close she blushing peepes, 
*' Her weeping eyes in pearled dew she steepes, 
'' Casting what sportlesse nights she ever led." 

ECLOGUE VII. 

(The Prize.) 



132 



CANZON. P. 67. 

nilTATED FROM THE XXXVI. SON. OF THE SECOND CENTURY. 

The tree to which these lines are addressed 
seems from the description to have been the 
Durio, It is a species of apple-tree, which grows 
to an immense size, and to the fruit of which that 
quality is attributed which the ancients formerly 
assigned to the Lotos, (Sousa.) 

''As the mellowing blushes, '^ &c. The luxu- 
riance of female charms furnishes our Poet with 
some of his happiest allusions. In particular, that 
most celebrated simile in the 9th Lusiad : 

^^ Os fermosos limoes, alii ckeirando 
" Estad virgineas tetas imitando.^^ 

Here balmy citrons scent the whisp'ring grove, 
Round as the virgin's rising breasts of love. 



133 

CANZONET. P. 69. 
So Petrarch, Sonn. 194. 

'^ Cantai — or piango, e non men di dolcezza 
" Del pianger prendo, che del canto presi,^ &'C. 

Gay were my songs — now tears will only flow, 
And all my bliss is centred but in woe ! 

'* Like the captive's strains 

'' Chanted to the sound of chains V' 

Imitated from Tibullus, Eleg. vii. b. 2. 

*' Spes etiam valida solatur compede vinctum, 
'' Crura sonant ferro, sed canit inter opiis:^^ 

For Hope can soothe the wearied prisoner's pains, 
And turn to melody the clank of chains ; 
Consol'd by her, while harsh the fetter rings, 
He thinks of happier days, and gaily sings, 

K 



IM 



CANZON. P. 70. 



The chaste discretion of delicate love is ad- 
mirably portrayed in this little Poem. Happy 
for our Author had he always obeyed its dictates 1 



CANZONET. P. 72. 

^* The Lady ivho swore by her eyes,'^ Such 
asseverations were not unusual in the days of 
chivalry.^ They are frequently mentioned in the 
Tales of the Troubadours. In the Lai of Coiirtoys 
there is a particular instance. ^^ Estant cousches 
^' en Hot, la belle dame lifaict sermen, e diet, par 
** majleor, diet elle, e par ctls yellx qi tant 
" estimesy &c. The modest reader must not ex- 
pect the remainder of this strange adjuration, 
which is a continued medley of pious phrases and 
sentiments by no means analagous. 



135 



ELEGY. P. 74. 

The Elegy from which these lines are taken 
was probably written byCAMOENSat San tar em, 
whither he had been banished. The circum- 
stances of his exile and the cause of it produced 
a natural comparison between his fate and that of 
Ovid. 

*' Her who so long,'' &c. 
'' His babes/' &c. 

In the tfiird Epistle from Pontus, Ovid thus 
unfashionably laments the absence of his wife : 

'^ Utque sit exiguum pcence, quod conjtige chard 
*' Quod careo patrid, pignoiibusque meis'' 

Tis mine to mourn the cherish'd joys of life; 
Mourn for my distant country — children — wife. 



136 



CANZON. P. 78. 

Among the numerous imitations of Anacreon's 
Wandering Cupid, there is none in which the 
playful character of boyhood has been so well 
preserved as it is in this little Poem. The de- 
struction of the flowers is an act of mere childish 
mischief, which admirably accords with '^ the 
young adopted's age. 

'^ His hahy form,^^ — 

'' Like one of those within mine eyes,''' Ca- 
MOENS is passionately fond of this allusion. It 
has been fancifully pursued by one of the most 
original of our modern Poets ^. 

^ Little's Poems, p. 26. 



137 



SONNETS. P. 83. 

Amongst other reasons why the legitimate 
Italian Sonnet be not suitable to the genius of the 
English language, the following is not the least 
forcible. In those languages which are more im- 
mediately formed on the Latin, there is a frequent 
similarity of termination, which greatly facilitates 
the use of rhyme. Accordingly, the Italian, 
Spanish, and Portuguese languages (which origi- 
nate from that source) have adopted the licence 
of polysyllabic rhyme, and with it the Sonnet. 
The former was a liberty which they could scarcely 
have avoided, but which has never been sanc- 
tioned by the '' Musce severiores'^ of England. 
To us, therefore, the mechanical arrangement of a 
Sonnet becomes a matter of peculiar difficulty. 

Some of the Spanish poets have laid down a 
collection of rules for the construction of Sonnets, 
so pompous and so particular that it seems as if 
they considered that species of composition as the 



1^ 

sublimest effort of human ingenuity. In all the 
oracular obscurity of Portuguese metaphor we 
are told, that a Sonnet should *^ be opened with 
a key of silver, and closed with one of gold!" 
Que ha o Soneto de ahrirse com chave de prata, 
e fecharse com chave de ouro^. 



SONNET I. P. 85. 

Love delights to recall the circumstances of its 
earlier existence; and to Camoens those earlier 
remembrances were certainly the pleasantest. 

'^ When in the midst,^^ &c. This event, from 
the internal evidence of other Poems, appears to 
have taken place on Holy Thursday, 1542, in 
that church at Lisbon which is dedicated to the 
" Wounds of Christ,^' If we compute according 
to the calendar then in use, we shall be able to 
ascertain the exact day on which our Poet's pas- 
sion commenced. He tells us in the 7th Canzon, 
that it began '* when the sun was entering Taurus." 

1 Trat. da Vers. Portug, Em Lisboa, 1781. 12mo. 



. 139 

Before the Gregorian alteration, that ingress was 
settled to be on the 10th of April. Holy Thurs- 
day, in the year 1542, happened on the 11th of 
April. There is a class of readers to whom the 
omission of this point would have appeared un- 
pardonable, and for their instruction the Translator 
has investigated it. 

" — each wasted hour — " 
^' When Iwasfree,''^ &c. 

Faria says that Camoens was indebted for 
this idea to Silvestre, a Spanish Poet. 

*' Tan preciosa es mi prision, 

^' Soy tan Men aprisionado, 
** Que pido reconvencion, 

" Del tiempo que no lo he estado .'" 

VISIT OF LOVE. 

So delightful my prison had grown, 
So charming the fetters I bore. 

That my bosom regretted alone 
—It had not been captur'd before ! 



140 



SONNET II. P. 86. 



The Sonnets formed on this idea, both previous 
and subsequent to that of Camoens, are almost 
innumerable. It is probable that our Poet founded 
his on some lines in Garcilasso, 

'^ Entonces como quando el Cisne siente 
*^ El ansia postrimera que le aquexa 
** Y tienta el cuerpo misero y doliente 
*' Con triste e lamentable son se quexa 
'' Y se despide con funesto canto 
'^ Del espirtil vital que del se alexa; 
'' Assi aquexado yo de dolor tanto 
" Que el alma abandonava yd la humana 
'* Came, solte la rienda al triste Ilanto,^^ 

ECLOG. II. 

IMITATED. 

As pours the swan his melancholy strains, 
While death-pangs shudder thro' his freezing veins. 



141 

Just as existence wings her parting flight, 
And heart grows chill, and eyes are steep'din night. 
He mourns for life, in lapses sad but strong, 
And his last accents falter into song. 

So when I leave this dreary vale of woe. 
And love and grief have brought my spirit low. 
For thee, most fair — most lov'd — thee, most se- 
vere, 
For thee thy bard shall weep his latest tear, 
And faintly utter with his failing breath, 
'^ 'Tis parting makes the bitterness of death !" 

*' And unrequited love and cruel ivrongJ^ The 
original concludes with a line of pure Spanish, 
taken from Boscan, 

** La vuestra falsa fe, y el amor mio.^' 

Such combinations of language are not unusual 
among the Poets of Italy, Portugal, and Spain. 
The following curious medley is found in a Canzon 
of the immortal Dante. 



142 

^' Chanson! vos pognez ir par tot le mond, 
'* Namque locutus sum in lingua trind, 
'' Ut gravis mea spina, 

*^ Sifaccia per lo mondo ogrC uomo il senta 
'^ Forse pietd nliavra chi me torme?ita/^ Szc, 

Our own Chaucer has likewise indulged in this 
practice, 

'' O pulchrior Sole in beautie, & full ylucidente !" 
IX. ladies' worthie. 



SONNET III. P. 87. 

This fine Sonnet is addressed to Estacio de 
Faria, grandfather to the Commentator on Ca- 
MOENS, who says of him, that, '^ if not great in 
all things, he was little in none*'' 

'' And like a watch-towerJ^ The original con- 
tains a pun on the words Faro and Faria* 



143 



SONNET IV. P. 1 



The touching melancholy of many of those 
compositions in which Camoens complains of 
his sorrows, becomes truly interesting when we 
consider, that he laments what he actually suf- 
fered, that he was not fastidiously unhappy, but 
underwent real misery in its fullest extent. 

'* To combat perils strange.''^ The original is 
not very graceful — *^ Me fez manjar de peixesf^ 
literally, *^ had made me food for JishesJ' 

'^ Midst that wild main^'' &c. Alluding not to 
the shipwreck which he suffered in the Gulf of 
Cochin-China, but to the dangers encountered 
when he accompanied Manuel de Vasconcelos in 
an expedition against the Moorish vessels in the 
Red Sea, about the month of February, 1555. 

The Commentator Sousa will not allow that 



144 

this Sonnet relates to the Hfe ofCAMOENS. He 
supposes it to have been written by our Poet, but 
to be descriptive of the misfortunes of one of his 
friends, and Uberally bestows the epithets, '* beast 
and fool," on those who presume to think other- 
wise. 



SONNET V. P. 89. 

Written on the morning of our Poet's departure 
from Lisbon to Santarem. 

*^ — Purpling orient, ^^ <ic. Literally " marche- 
tada/^ inlaid. 

'' As e'en might turn,'' &c. This fanciful rhodo- 
montade seems to have been suggested by Dante. 

*^ E commincio raggiandomi d'un riso 
^* Tal, che net fuoco,f aria Vuomfelicer 

PARADISO, CANTO VIT. V. 1?. 



145 



SONNET VI. P. 90. 



" My senses losf/^ &c. Perhaps this complaint 
was more than poetically true. The assertion in 
question might have been occasioned by the noble 
independence of our Poet's disposition, and by his 
undisguised contempt of titled ignorance and dig- 
nified barbarity. Such conduct will in all ages 
obtain the appellation of madness. 



SONNET VII. P. 91. 

Bertaut, an old French Poet, hath expressed 
the same sentiment in a beautiful manner. 

Ftlicite passee 
Qui ne peux levenir, 

Tour m en t de ma pensee ! 
Que n'ay-je en te perdant, perdu le souvenir? 

Helas, il ne me reste 
De mes contentemens, 
Qu^ un souvenir funeste 
Qui me les convertit, a toute heure, en tourmens! 



146 



SONNET VHI. P. 92. 

The earliest and happiest years of our Poet's 
life were passed at Coimbra. The walls of that 
town were bathed by the river Mondego, to which 
this beautiful Sonnet is addressed. 



SONNET IX. P. 93. 

It is amusing to observe our Poet's recantation 
of all his former blasphemies against the omnipo- 
tence of Love. Perhaps, if every man who has 
felt its influence were to be equally candid, he 
would confess that his sweetest hours were those 
which were passed under its dominion. ^' Croyez 
moi, on n'est heureiix que par V amoiu.'^ So said 
the dangerous Valmont, and once, at least, the 
dangerous Valmont was ricfht! 



147 



SONNET X. P. 94. 

'* Come tell me,fairest»^' Thus too Ferreyra, 
one of the most pleasing amongst the Portuguese 
writers : 

'^ — Donde tomou amor, e de qual vea, 
'' O ouro tad Jino e puro para aquellas 
'* Trangas lour as? — ■ 

" Donde as perlas/' &c. 

SONNET XIX. 

O tell me from what purer mine 
Did Love select that redden'd gold 

Which fondly o'er thy brows divine 
Thus hangs in many an amorous fold ! 

Both Camoens and Ferreyra seem to have 
taken the idea from Petrarch, Sonn. 185. 

'^ Onde tolse amor Voro, e di qual vena 
a p^Y far due treccie Monde, '^ &c. 



148 

SONNET XI. P. 95. 

Thus Petrarch : 

'* Benedetto siaH giorno, e'l mese, e Vanno,'- &c. 

" VeiVd every prospect, ^^ Szc. 
There is a concetto in the original on the word 
Esperanca, which signifies both Expectation and 
Hope. 



SONNET XII. P. 96. 

Written on the death of Don Antonio de No- 
ronha, who vras slain in an encounter with the 
Moors on the 18th of April, 1553. We must be 
careful not to confound this amiable young hero 
with the two inglorious viceroys of his name, nor 
with Don Antonio de Xoronha who was Governor 
of India in 1568, men remarkable for nothing but 
the rapacity and extortion which they displayed in 



149 

the execution of their office. He whose premature 
death our Poet thus feelingly laments, was his 
earliest friend, and connected to him by a remark- 
able similarity of fortune. His father, the second 
Count of Linares, had sent him to join the Moorish 
expedition, in order to remove him from the object 
of an attachment which he had formed at Lisbon. 
It was in this expedition that he was slain. The 
circumstances of his death, as detailed by Sousa, 
exhibit all the chivalrous gallantry of those ro- 
mantic days, when men were more than heroes, 
and women but just less than divine. 

" Live in the memory,^'' &c. So B. Tasso, 

a Yi^ro nelle memorie del mortali,^' 

SONNET I. 



150 



SONNET XIII. P. 97. 



The inefficacy of rural beauty to please, during 
the absence of a mistress, is among the common- 
places of amatory poets. The language of the 
heart is so universal, that the similarity of this 
Sonnet to a passage in Langhorne will not surprise : 

^ '' What are streams or flow'rs, 

" Or songs of blithe birds ? What the blushing rose, 
^' Young health, or music, or the voice of praise, 
^*The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath 
^^ Of evening gales — when Delia dwells afar ?" 



SONNET XIV. P. 98. 
Written on his departure for Africa. 

*' O then thy magic name^ s mysterious sound,' 
It is probable, says the Commentator, that on such 
an emergency, he would have invoked the more 
powerful assistance of St. James of Compostelia, 
or the Archanc^el St. Michael. 



151 



SONNET XV. P. 99. 

'' I sang of Love, ^' &c. Perhaps this thought 
was suggested by Dante. 

'* Farei parlando innamorar la gente, 
** — e r^aggionar^ d'amor si dolcemente, 
*' Che face consentir lo cuore in lui — " 

RIME,/oZ. IV. fy X. 

So gaily shall the amorous minstrel sing, 
His giovfing verse shall soft persuasion bring, 
And while the strains in tides of sweetness roll, 
Teach warm consent to each enraptur'd soul. 

But Dante, unfortunately, did not fulfil his pro- 
mise, for his minor poems on amatory subjects are 
often deficient in the ease and delicacy necessary 
to such compositions. 



152 

^' And blushing girls/' &c. The aptitude of 
these young scholars brings to mind a celebrated 
passage in the Confessions of St. Austin. *' Si 
" non amaveris, frigidce loquor: JDa amantem, 
'^ da sentientem, da desiderantem — sciet quod 
'' loquor r Confess. Cap. iii. § 4. 

'^ Those little secrets,^' <^c. So Ausias March, 
the Provencal. 

''He asats parlat d^amor, e de sosfets 
" E descuberts molts amros secrets T 

CANTO 73. 

Enough have amorous deeds employed my song, 
Enough those secrets that to Love belons;. 



SONNET XYI. P. 100. 



'' The Tuscan fair,'' &c. Ferreyra has the 
same thought : 



153 

Had you but grac'd that elder day 
When Petrarch pour'd his pensive lay ; 
By Sorga's stream, if haply you 
Had met the Poet's amorous view, 
O, then the bard of Sorga's stream 
Had surely sung a sweeter theme, 
And, to a nobler passion true, 
Tun'd his wild harp to Love and you ! 

" Then how, alas, shall humble Lisa dareP 

Liso is the anagram of Lois, In the same 
manner our Poet discreetly calls his mistress 
Natercia instead of Caterina, Sometimes with 
more learned gallantry he gives her the name of 



154 



SONNET XVII. P. 101. 
Imitated from Petrarch, Sonnet 196. 

'' I mi vivea di mia sorte contento, 
'' Senza lagrime, e senza invidia alcuna, 
" Che s'altro amante hd phi destrafortuna, 
*' 3Iille placer non vaglion un tormento T 

I liv'd contented in my lowly state, 

Nor grief my heart disturbed, nor jealous fear, 
I envied not the Lover's happier fate- — 

Can thousand joys repay a single tear? 

'^ Such bliss I deemed,'' &c. Thus Guillem 
Aesmer, the Troubgidour. 

" Mais vaut d'amor qi ben est enveios, 

*^ -—Un dolz plorar non vaut qatorz risT &c. 



155 



IMITATED. 



Some love to weep their prime away ; 

ISTo charm to me in grief appears, 
And forty smiles could never pay 

A minute pass'd in tears ! 



SONNET XVIII. P. 102. 

'' Dear band,^^ &c. Our Poet had implored 
Donna Caterina to grant him a lock of her hair. 
She promised to bestow it at some future period, 
and in the mean time presented him with the fillet 
which she wore round her head, as a pledge of her 
intentions in his favour. Faria. 

This Sonnet was perhaps suggested by that 
celebrated Poem of Garcilazo, beginning, *' O 
dulces prendas,'^ Sec. 



156 

^^ Gifts small as these J' Literally, " By the 
laws of Love, part is taken in pledge for all," 



SONNET XIX. P. 103. 

'^ Lopez r This was Don John Lopez de 
Leytad, to whom our Poet afterwards addressed 
some very comical verses, occasioned by the sight 
of a piece of Indian cloth, which Ley tad was about 
to present to a lady of whom he was enamoured. 



SONNET XX. P. 104. 

Written on the death of Donna Caterina de 
Ataide. 

^* Love saw the deed," The concetti with which 
this Sonnet terminates were so obstinate as to 
compel the Translator in some degree to deviate 
from his original. 



157 



THE NIGHT SCENE. P. 107. 

The Translator has to regret that the interrup- 
tion of illness prevented him from concluding this 
Canto, which gives a description of the Tourna- 
ment held in London, during the days of John of 
Gaunt, when twelve Portuguese Chevaliers van- 
quished the same number of English. See Mr. 
Mickle's Translation. 

The few Stanzas which have been thus trans- 
lated, afford a fair specimen of that ^' eking-out 
tautology" which the constraint of octave measure 
compelled Camoens to employ, and which is, 
perhaps, the greatest blemish in his Epic Poem. 



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